Chapter 7

As Cianne walked home, she thought of several worthy comebacks for the pompous oaf. It was too late of course but wasn't that how it usually worked out. There was no use harping on it. Only she had done nothing but harp to herself since leaving him at her table.

Tristan had invaded her space, then accused her of. . .of the truth.

Cianne moaned. *How am I going to deal with Tristan now?*

In a split second every thought, every care in her world, disappeared. Cianne winced as the dizzy spell hit her. She frantically searched her surroundings and noticed she was close to the park in her neighborhood. The park had a public bathroom with privacy stalls.

She ran to the bathroom as if her life depended on it, and it did.

. . . . . . . . . .

Drained emotionally and physically, Cianne unlocked the stall door and trudged over to the sink. Thankful that her community and the Parks and Recreation Department took pride in the park, she didn't worry about the cleanliness of the sink when she turned on the faucet and splashed cool water on her face. She all but dismissed the vision she had just minutes ago in the bathroom stall. There was little she could do about it now, anyways.

*Deal with what you can.* Her father's words always put things in perspective.

So, as she dried her face with the coarse paper towel, Cianne thought of the three words that came to mind whenever Tristan was near. *Sadness, Pain, Death.* What did the words mean? Were they for her to try and help Tristan, or were they a warning? Based on her past experiences, if the warning was for him, something was going to cause him harm. If they were a warning for her, which would be her first personal warning, he was going to cause her harm. Whatever the case, those words confirmed that Tristan Bertram was off limits.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror long enough to confirm that her appearance was back to normal then walked out into the sunlit day. She followed her usual path through the park to get to her house. When Cianne saw the large sign that read "Homes at West Valley", she pulled her cell out of her bag and sighed.

The walk home after lunch which typically took under twenty minutes had taken her just about an hour today. She could blame the vision for the headache that mercilessly beat at her temples, or she could admit the real cause of both her headache and her delay.

*Tristan.*

She was letting what happened at Crimpy's get to her.

Cianne increased her pace when she saw her house come into view. It was a lovely three-story starter home nestled a block from the entrance of a family-friendly neighborhood. The brown and tan exterior of the house and the xeriscaping, a type of gardening that reduced the need for irrigation, were chosen because of the warm Arizona climate. Cianne loved the neighborhood and her house.

Inside the house, the air was filled with a delicious aroma that teased her senses, so Cianne placed her shoulder bag on the console table a few feet from the front door and headed for the kitchen. The sound of her rumbling stomach reminded her that both her attempts to eat today had been interrupted: breakfast by a vision and lunch by an egomaniac.

"Hey, dad." Cianne walked over to the counter and grabbed a carrot before taking a seat at the table. Just seeing her father had her headache easing off a bit.

Joseph Baxter, who stood in front of the stove stirring something in a pot, looked up at her. "How was your morning, princess?"

"I lived." She tried to push what happened at Crimpy's out of her head altogether. She was home, and home was safe.

"I'm elated that you've managed to survive another day in that horrid war zone they call a school," he teased.

Cianne's frown caused her father to chuckle, and her mind went right back to what will forever be known as The Crimpy's Incident. In an attempt to move past it, she asked, "What's cooking?"

He shook his head then motioned to the pot. "You are having grilled chicken with vegetables and rice."

"Why are you cooking so early?" She bit into the crisp carrot.

"Going in early," Joseph answered. He stopped stirring, turned the stove off, then washed his hands. Then he wiped the countertop. "How are you enjoying your half days?"

"The truth. . ." Cianne said, "they're boring. I'm home while Tranae is stuck in school all day."

Her father crossed the space between them and gently tapped her on the head. "Tranae should have worked harder on her studies instead of lollygagging."

Cianne leaned back to avoid another of her father's playful taps then quickly jolted forward to bite at his hand. Joseph was quicker, pulling his fingers away before she could get them then grabbed at her nose. She snapped at his hand again before he called it quits. . .but not before he grabbed at her nose one more time and pinched it.

"Alright, I'm done." He straightened his tie as he watched her, wearing a huge smile on his face. "You got some mail today." It was the kind of smile that had big expectations behind it. Joseph opened the drawer they kept mail in and pulled out two large white booklet envelopes.

Cianne watched as he placed the envelopes in front of her. She peered at the mail while she continued to bite off little bites of the carrot.

"I thought you would be more excited," he said when she didn't pick them up.

Cianne put the half-eaten carrot on the table beside the envelopes. "I'm excited," she lied. "I'm just a little nervous." She picked up her mail, read the sender on each envelope then placed them back on the table, unopened. When her eyes met her father's concerned gaze, she offered a nervous smile.

"Alright," he said, then sighed. The disappointed look on his face only lasted a second before he recovered. "I'll be home late tonight."

Joseph turned and walked out of the kitchen toward the living room. When he returned to the entryway of the kitchen, he had his briefcase in his hand. Cianne got to her feet and dragged behind him as he led the way to the front door.

"You're what we adults refer to as a teenager, right?" Joseph asked as he opened the front door.

"Yeah," Cianne answered, with apprehension.

"Shouldn't you be out hanging at the mall and spending my hard-earned money or something?"

The ends of Cianne's lips curled up in a partial smile. She would have rolled her eyes, but he hated when she did.

He turned back, facing Cianne, and stared at her for a moment before kissing her on the forehead. Joseph chuckled as he shook his head at her then opened the door and walked down the porch steps to his car.

Cianne felt like she should say something to ease his worries. But she could think of nothing so she chose deflection. "I'm not the only one who needs a life," she said. "You're the workaholic."

Joseph looked up at her as she stood in the doorway with the screen door open. His eyes were full of. . .everything. Love, expectation, pride, concern. . .

*Why is he concerned?*

He sighed. "I'll eat out tonight so put the food away." He opened his car door and slid into the driver's seat before sticking his head out of the window. "Tell Tranae to leave some leftovers, though."

"I'll try, but I can't make any promises, Mr. Baxter." Tranae tapped the hood of the car as she walked past his sedan. She jogged up the porch stairs and leaned on the railing.

Cianne acknowledged her friend with a halfhearted smile then turned to watch as her father slowly backed the car out onto the street.

*Wait.*

"Dad," she yelled, as she stepped onto the porch. "Tell Mrs. Pollard," she paused, "Tell her that I am sorry for her loss."

The sedan jerked to a stop, indicating that her father floored the brake pedal. His expression was grave because he must have sensed what was coming next but asked anyway.

Joseph stuck his head out of the driver's window. "What happened?"

Cianne heard Tranae whisper a curse. She glanced at her friend and saw Tranae shaking her head as she mouthed the word 'don't'.

"Never mind," Cianne yelled to her father. "Hurry or you'll get caught in traffic."

Joseph seemed as if he wasn't going to listen to her advice but he nodded and continued backing onto the street. She let Tranae inside the house as she watched her father drive out of sight before she backed inside the house and closed the door.

Upstairs in Cianne's bedroom, Tranae sat on the window seat looking out over the empty backyard. "You know you can't tell him stuff like that right when he's leaving," Tranae said, looking over her shoulder.

Cianne dropped her shoulder bag on the floor beside one of two large bookcases that covered a section of her wall. A desk with a task chair, a window seat, and a full-size bed completed the furnishings in her space. Each piece of furniture was made of a Birchwood finish that she assembled herself.

Nothing in the space screamed teenager. There were no posters of men with hairless torsos, no abundance of perky or goth colors, cutesy décor, or tons of stuffed animals. Yet, even without the pictures of teenage heartthrobs littering the walls, Cianne knew that Tranae preferred this room over her own.

"I know." It was all Cianne could say.

Tranae offered her a sympathetic smile before her eyes lit up. "I bet that party in Phoenix is going to be epic." Tranae beamed.

Cianne watched as the excitement in Tranae's eyes dimmed.

"But I won't be going, will I?" Tranae pouted. "Nope, I'll be home playing scrabble with my landlords." A sobbing moan followed.

Cianne placed her mail on her desk. "You mean your parents. You don't pay rent Tranae."

"No," Tranae whined, "I meant my jailers."

"Don't be so dramatic. Did you do your homework?" Cianne sat on the floor beside her bed and stared up at her spinning ceiling fan.

"Not all of it but that's why I've been given a day pass. My hair started to melt from thinking too hard so Jailer #1 said I could come over and get help. I wish I was smart like you, but I don't think geek would look good on me." Tranae rubbed her forehead.

Cianne threw a pen at her. "Who are you calling a geek?" The projectile missed its mark by a few inches.

"Only a geek would get straight A's every year." Tranae slid from the window seat and spread out on the floor beside Cianne. They lay on their backs, head to toe.

"Not every year. I got a B in Spanish my first year at West Hills." If her visions hadn't caused her to leave class so much during freshman year, she would have gotten an A. Her nerves weren't as bad now so her visions had slowed. Except for today. . .because of him.

Cianne rolled over on her belly before pointing to her diary.

Tranae looked in the direction Cianne pointed. The diary sat on top of a small pile of books beside her arm. She grabbed it and tossed it to Cianne. "You should lock that up," Tranae said, referencing the diary.

"No need." Cianne wanted to log what happened at Crimpy's today, but she wanted to tell Tranae first.

"Your step-father is so. . .cool. My wardens go through everything. And let's not forget Jess the Mess. If he found my diary," she said, shuddering at the thought, "My secrets would be in West Hill Times. He's such an ass."

"I guess privacy is the upside of not having any siblings." Cianne reached for the pen that had landed under her bed when a wave of dizziness hit her. She froze for a split second, then jumped to her feet. Cianne ran out of her bedroom and down the hall as if a fire had been lit under her feet.